


The Rules of the Universe and How To Adhere to Them

by Rhanon_Brodie (Glass_Jacket)



Category: Arctic Monkeys, British Singers RPF, Indie Music RPF
Genre: Affairs, Again, Alcohol, Alex and Jamie being pricks to one another, Blow Jobs, Cheating, Cocaine, Feels, First Time, Gay Sex, Hand Jobs, I'm Sorry, M/M, Misery, More angst, Obnoxious behavior, Slash, Swear Words, Tags Subject to Change, at least not in this fic, but i don't go there, did i mention feels, frottage is a thing with me okay, gratuitous analogies, i am physically incapable of giving these two a happily ever after, it loves company, mention of ass to mouth, mention of current relationships, mild frottage, mild violence, more anal sex, slight reference to song lyrics, speculation on AM6 names, speculation on baby names, virgin!alex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-11 13:15:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4436849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glass_Jacket/pseuds/Rhanon_Brodie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's cyclical, this thing between them, and it's always bad before it gets worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Origins

**Author's Note:**

> All recognizable elements herein are the property of their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.
> 
> So...this is a direct result of some tumblr musing with Stanzie regarding all things Jamex because she's infected and I'm infected and you're all infected, and I'm coming to all your houses personally to ask if you've been touched by the feels that are Jamex. This two-parter fits loosely with the head canons in Docked in Tempestuous Bays AND Curiosity Becomes a Heavy Load, but note that it is not a continuation of either. These two are just affairs-y and angsty as fuck and these things that keep me up at night needed to come out. Virgin!Alex is prominent, where Jamie's history is vague. In any case...this is it. 
> 
> Timeline is directly following the release of AM6, so I had to come up with an album title. It's shite, but it seems to work, so I'm going with it. Other contenders included "Three Dads and an Alex", "Three Men and a Smol Doe", "The New Black", "Gay Wednesdays", "Filagree Heart" and "The Idaho Agenda".

“Why do you think this album resonates with so many people?”

Alex’s gaze drops from the woman across from him, and he stares at his hands for a moment. “Hmmm,” he nods, trying to drum up an answer. “I suppose it’s like...it’s a...a memory of a time gone past, an echo if you will. Something that is significant, that you associate with a certain song, or a mood, a smell, a place. It’s ingrained. It’s...it’s losing your virginity all over again.” Internally he winces at the metaphor, and he wills his cheeks not to heat, but a nervous giggle escapes him, and the woman interviewing him picks up on it right away.

_Please don’t ask me to elaborate, please don’t ask me to elaborate_ , his inner monologue chants, and it’s all he can do to keep the grimace off of his face when she replies,

“Your virginity?” There’s a sparkle in her eyes, a quirk to her voice, like she’s about to crack him wide open like some unsolved case after all these years. “Is that something that you think about often? Your first time?”

Alex shrugs and waffles. “Nah.” He giggles again, apprehension tightening the sound. “It’s not...it’s neither here nor there. M’not going to talk about that on air, Rebecca.” He smiles crookedly, and yet pleasantly, and hopes it’s going to be the end of the conversation.

“She must have been something special to be remembered after all these years.”

The little voice in his head heaves an exasperated sigh, and it’s all he can do to keep from rolling his eyes at her presumptions. “Reyt that,” he murmurs, looking down and away once more. He’s grateful for the sunglasses he’s wearing, but he still feels incredibly transparent. 

Rebecca is off and running with more questions, these ones rolling easily into Matt’s lap, and Alex has a chance to sit back. He avoids the curious gaze he feels slipping over him from off camera, and manages to hobble through the remainder of the interview. When it’s over, he doesn’t bother hiding the fact that he’s visibly relieved, but he hopes the fact that he’s rattled doesn’t translate through the surface. Pulling his sunglasses off, he tucks them into his pocket and rubs at his eyes, groaning at the dismal state of that interview.

He’s halfway to the green room when he hears that all-too familiar voice - a little nasally, but sweet, charming, and husky as it calls his name.

“Alex.”

“Hey, yeah, joost gonna grab me other jacket an’ change me boots; I’ll be there presently.” He doesn’t turn around. He can’t drum up the courage to do so. There is very little break in his stride. He feels incredibly foolish, and horribly transparent as he takes another step towards the green room.

“Al.”

This time, Alex does stop, and he waits a beat, and then another, before drawing a slow breath and turning around.

“Jameh.”

The breath he’s taken shudders out of him as he meets those hopeful blue eyes. He should have left his sunglasses on, because now he’s slipping over those glacial irises, and he’s certain he’s going to fall and land flat on his back. 

For his part, Jamie glances up the hallway, and then back over the way he’s come, to ensure they have a moment of quasi-privacy. Alex feels himself hold his breath again as Jamie closes the gap between them. These days, he’s never quite certain where he stands with Jamie - hell, it’s been like that since that hotel room in Bogota. Clenching his fists at his sides is the only way Alex will be certain he won’t act on the urge he always has to push Jamie’s hair out of his eyes when it’s grown too long. The longer tresses are a direct result from the superstitions Jamie adheres to when recording - he hasn’t cut it since they started recording _Glass Jacket_ , and it’s been out for two months now. The blond waves are sweeping over his forehead, curling about his ears and the nape of his neck, and once more, Alex is flooded with the urge to comb them back, to hold them tight, to press their foreheads together, and be silent together like they used all those years ago.

“Did you...mean that? What you said about the album?” Jamie’s tone is hopeful, and his gaze is wary, like he wants to know the answer, but is ready to look away if it’s not the one he’s expecting.

Alex swallows and nods, and reaches back to fiddle with the neat bun into which he’s pulled his long, dark hair back. “I did,” he says firmly, looking back up at Jamie from under his eyebrows. He shakes his head at Jamie’s parted lips and look of wonder. “Is it so difficult to believe that I wouldn’t forget that? That I wouldn’t forget _any_ of it?”

“No, it’s joost-”

“What about you, Jameh? Did you forget?” He scoffs on the question because he already knows the answer. Jamie uses every opportunity given to remind Alex that what has gone on between them knows nothing of time or space. It happens again and again, is cyclical, is fucking rock n’ roll, if Alex’s little speech at the Brits two years ago means anything. When Jamie doesn’t answer at first, Alex pushes on.

“Did you forget about the way I felt under you that night? Naked, on me back on the couch in the practice loft on Greensborough Way, you talkin’ me through all of it?”

Jamie blinks, and remains silent.

“Did you forget about the way I cried, and gasped, and then that moment that it all got _so mooch better_ , Jameh? Did you forget what I sounded like when I came? Did you forget the way you shook when you did?”

“No, Alex.” Jamie finally answers thickly, shaking his head. He’s taken a step towards Alex, but stops before he clutches the smaller man’s arms. Instead, he shoves his fingers back through his hair and sighs, before sagging back into the wall of the hallway. “Never. But I thought that Lex-”

“Lex weren’t me first. _You_ were. I let you in. I let you fuck me. I welcomed every part of you inside of me, Jameh, the first person - the only person - I’ve ever had like that since.”

“Oh,” Jamie muttered, before he shifted his glance to the floor for a second. When he looks back, he stupidly asks, “And Kane?”

“ _Fuck_ Kane, Jamie,” Alex spits. “Fook him, an’ any notion of him. Stop bringing him up like he’s to blame for every problem we’ve ever had." Alex takes a moment to pull himself back from the brink of explosion before fixing Jamie with a bored expression. "He were a dalliance,” Alex answers flippantly. He stares up into Jamie's eyes, unblinking. “I never let him in quite the same way I let you in, James. An’ you’ve never left, you realize. You joost sorta put your feet up and decided to stay.”

“You want me to go?”

Alex shrugs. “Isn’t that what you always do?”

“Why the fuck can I never get a straight answer from you?”

Alex blinks at Jamie’s snarl, and he opens his mouth, ready to retort, but Matt’s voice interrupts.

“Hey, there you guys are.”

Alex barely contains the growl that wants to slip past his lips. He’s never been able to get a straight answer from Jamie, either, not that he thought tonight would be his lucky night. But something’s got to give, they’ve been bending and twisting this thing between them so much that it’s bound to be brittle in places, and he knows it’s cracking in others. Damage control, he fears, may be too little too late.

“We’re gonna head back to the hotel, grab some dinner, probably just take it easy tonight with the show an’ everythin’ tomorrow,” Matt announces. “I told Breana I’d FaceTime her, an’ sing Farrah to sleep.” He beams with the mention of his daughter, and then looks at Jamie with a smile Alex is certain he’ll never have. “How’s Katie getting along Benji, then?”

Alex fidgets as Matt and Jamie talk about fatherly things, and he refuses to acknowledge the tear in his heart that appears when Jamie’s voice turns warm with pride for his son, now close to a year old. For the most part, he ignores the conversation, knowing next to nothing about nappies or spit-up or teething, even though he’s been wrangled a handful of times to look after one of the three little ones that now make up the extended branch of their group.

“So, yeah, I’ll meet you in the car,” Alex mumbles, stepping away from Jamie and Matt, once more making his way to the green room to gather his belongings.

He doesn’t see the look Jamie throws his way, but he feels it hit him square in the back head so much so that he pauses with his hand on the door and tells himself not to look back.

It’ll only make things worse.

But he _does_ look, and it’s a split second too late, because Jamie’s already turned around and is walking away with Matt. He knows it’s a far cry from Jamie walking away for good, but Alex still feels that hot flare of regret, and longing, not unlike the first time he had to say goodnight to Jamie, and didn’t ever want to leave.

+

_“Al, I’m tellin’ ya, you should wait until after that last beat for the ‘you.’ It’s tight as is, yeah? But the pause makes the whole song more so.”_

_“More so what?” Alex asked, tilting his head at Jamie._

_Jamie looked down at his hands where they fiddled with the knobs on his guitar. “Ehhhmmm, I dunno, like...like...more tight?” He looked up and felt his cheeks heat at the way Alex’s mouth turned up with bemusement._

_“I fink it makes me sound like a dickhead.”_

_Jamie shrugged then, and smiled back at Alex. “Don’t really need a song to make you sound like a dickhead, y’know.” He winked, and Alex drew back in mock horror._

_“I’m **not** a dick’ead,” Alex huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. Still, he giggled, and Jamie did too, and soon the two of them were laughing in their practice loft, the only ones left after a long night._

_“But that’s the point of the song, innit?” Jamie asked as he unshouldered his guitar and set it in its stand._

_Alex followed suit, and then flopped on the couch with a huff. “Yeah. In a sort of ironic way, I suppose.” He grinned, thankful that he didn’t really have to explain much to Jamie when it came to his writing._

_In truth, he didn’t have to explain much to Matt or Nick either, but there was something between he and Jamie that was just...perfect in that it was not needed to be said, or voiced. He was comfortable with Jamie, no doubt a result of having grown up together since they were just lads in the sandbox. They’d grown closer as they grew up, and since they’d put their band together, things had progressed naturally, as far as Alex was concerned. Jamie was his first crush, his first kiss, his first for many things, but then there had been girls, and gigs, and spaces in between where everything but each other seemed to fit. Here in the studio, putting the last touches on their second album, they had fallen into their ease with one another, a welcome thrill for Alex, and for Jamie, too, it seemed._

_Jamie sat next to Alex, not leaving an inch of space between them, as he was prone to do. And, like they hadn’t lost any time, Jamie leaned down and pressed his nose into Alex’s shoulder, inhaling, then sighing, and finally closing his eyes with a dreamy smile._

_“I’ve wanted to kiss you all day,” Jamie whispers, pushing his lips against the cotton of Alex’s shirt. Always the bold one, Jamie’s hand fell to Alex’s knee and swept up the worn denim to rest on the inside of his thigh. There he stayed, giving him a gentle squeeze, waiting for Alex to reply._

_“Yeah?” Alex breathed shakily, shifting in Jamie’s touch. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been thinking the same thing. Slinking down against the couch cushions, he swiped at the hair that fell into his eyes, and then peeked up at Jamie, who was watching him with a small smile._

_“Mmm hmm,” Jamie nodded, turning his gaze to Alex’s mouth. “Can I?”_

_Alex blinked slowly, feeling light headed. Really, it didn’t take much attention from Jamie to put him in that place, simply for the fact that it was **Jamie** , and Jamie just affected him like that. “Can you what?” Alex whispered cautiously._

_A flash of dark pink came in the form of Jamie’s tongue flickering against his bottom lip. “Can I kiss you?” he chuckled softly, taking his hand from Alex’s thigh and cupping the side of his face to keep their gazes locked._

_Alex started to nod, but his mouth worked out the sounds, “What about Katie?” Jamie had only been with her for about four months, but Alex wasn’t about to wedge himself between the two, who appeared rather besotted with one another._

_Jamie shrugged easily. “I don’t want t’kiss Katie. I wanna kiss you.”_

_Alex pursed his lips. “Oh,” he replied, rather startled at the admission. “Like...here?” Alex breathed, feeling his eyes drift shut at the feel of Jamie’s fingers feathering through his hair._

_“Right here,” Jamie confirmed, shifting closer, leaning into Alex’s space. “Are you nervous? We’ve kissed before.”_

_“Aye, right,” Alex stuttered. “But we’ve...not...I mean, it’s not that private-”_

_“S’joost you an’ me, Al,” Jamie soothed, brushing his lips over Alex’s._

_The sensation was light, but the intention behind it settled like a warm weight pulling from between Alex’s hips. “J-J-Jameh,” he tried again, still uncertain of kissing his bandmate in the practice loft. What if Matt had forgotten his keys again? Or Nick was heading back for his jumper? Or-_

_“Shhh.” Jamie somehow just **knew** that Alex’s mind was working overtime thinking of all the things that could go wrong, when there was only one thing Jamie was concerned about going right._

_Before Alex could say anything, Jamie was kissing him, softly, slowly, tongues just touching, lips soft and tender. He loved being kissed by Jamie; the older boy just inherently knew what Alex wanted - knew when to pull back and give him air, when to suck at his bottom lip, when to bite, when to flick his tongue, how to mutter soft words of desire like he was at that moment._

_“God, you taste good, Al. I want that taste in me mouf all the time.” Jamie gasped another breath and then fitted his mouth to Alex’s once more, hot, and wet, and his fingers combed back through Alex’s hair. He urged Alex forward, sliding a hand to the nape of his neck, the other falling to his hip, and he tugged, coaxing him until Alex clambered up into Jamie’s lap, his limbs shaking, his breath choppy, and his mouth swollen as he stared down at Jamie._

_He felt rather...exposed as he sat perched on Jamie’s thighs, and his hands clutched at the back of Jamie’s jumper as he wiggled until he found a comfortable spot. Jamie smiled the whole time, allowing Alex to adjust, flexing his hands on Alex’s hips before sliding down just enough to tilt his own hips up, and press against Alex’s backside. The feel of Jamie snug against his arse, clearly hard and fully aroused, made Alex’s cheeks grow even hotter, but when he sucked in a breath to say that maybe they should stop, Jamie took it as his queue to kiss Alex again, tugging him down by his shirt and taking up a handful of dark curls as he worked his tongue into his mouth. Jamie’s hips bounced again, and Alex whimpered, the sound swallowed by Jamie’s answering moan._

_“D’ya like tha’?” Jamie panted, breaking their kiss with a wet sound and digging his thumbs into the grooves of Alex’s hipbones. “Like feelin’ what you do to me, don’t ya? Hmm? That’s all from you, Al, you make me crazy, you know that?”_

_Alex’s head was spinning. While he was used to Jamie’s chatter on a daily basis, he’d never been privy to the words the blond was rasping now. The fact that Alex was the source of Jamie’s sudden verbosity made Alex even more anxious, in the most confusing way. He wanted to stop Jamie before they went too far, but at the same time, going too far with Jamie only seemed like the best thing in the world, and Alex’s heart leapt in his throat, while his cock stiffened behind his fly. His hands had found Jamie’s hair, and Jamie’s t shirt, and he tugged both of them as he kissed Jamie back with a ferocity that startled him. When his own teeth snagged Jamie’s bottom lip, it only served to make Jamie moan, and grip Alex’s hips, and pull the boy down as he rocked his pelvis up._

_“I want you so bad,” Jamie breathed, sliding his fingers through Alex’s hair once more. He licked Alex’s bottom lip, and continued to roll his hips against Alex._

_Alex’s eyelashes fluttered at Jamie’s confession, and he moaned softly as as Jamie’s hands swept down his torso and then slipped under his shirt, spanning his waist and tracing his ribs. Fingers danced up his spine, and then hooked over his shoulders, and there was a moment where Alex’s lips left Jamie’s before very suddenly his t shirt was being tugged up. It caused Alex to squirm in Jamie’s hold, and he pulled his mouth away with a mewl._

_“Wait, Jameh,” Alex murmured, catching Jamie’s hands in his before sliding his fingers up the toned forearms, fine blond hairs like silk under his fingertips. He watched as he touched the body beneath him - Jamie’s physique was something of a hot, open mystery to him. Playing footie for years had toned the youth, but it was more than just the muscle. Jamie was also the first among their group to start shaving, having to keep on it almost every day now, and he’d sprouted a smattering of dark golden hairs on his chest that even now peeked out from under the collar of his shirt. Jamie swallowed, and Alex still stared, gnawing his lip as his hips began to sway once more._

_“You shy, babeh?” Jamie’s question broke Alex’s trance, and when dark brown eyes flitted over Jamie’s face, the older boy smiled. “Want me to go first?”_

_Still silent, Alex nodded, and his eyes went wide as his pulse began to pound. Jamie merely winked, and sat back, grasping the bottom of his jumper and pulling it off in one swift motion. All the confidence in the world couldn’t hide the fact that his cheeks were flushed as Alex stared down at him, and Jamie shivered just a bit, and then leaned forward, pulling Alex against him and tucking his face against the soft skin of his neck. Jamie’s fingers grappled Alex’s hips once more, and he pulled the smaller lad down against him with a searing grunt._

_“Can I take your shirt off? Hmm? I wanna see you, Alex, wanna feel you against me, nowt between.” Jamie pulled his head away from where he teased Alex’s throat to look up at Alex and judge his reaction._

_Alex nodded shakily, his throat gone dry at the way Jamie was weaving his words with actions. As he spoke, Jamie’s fingers found the hem of Alex’s shirt again and slowly pushed it upwards, his knuckles grazing the soft, pale skin of his belly, fingertips flitting over the sparse dark hair below his navel. It made Alex’s nerves fizz like the Prosecco they’d popped on New Years, and his chest fluttered with anxious desire as his belly wobbled, and he grew warm and thick in his veins. His skin shifted something awful, too, with the need for Jamie to touch him everywhere. Slowly, the trepidation was leaving his body; with every breath he took, he only inhaled Jamie deeper._

_Jamie’s fingers turned rough, scraping the material of Alex’s shirt up, and his fingernails dragged over Alex’s delicate skin until he cried out and arched his back sharply. He was pulled free of his shirt, the thing discarded somewhere in the room, and Jamie surged up, wrapping an arm behind Alex’s shoulders, slinging the other around the narrow waist, and pressing their chests together. He held Alex there, making note of every tremble and shiver as they just breathed, Alex’s wide eyes staring down at him._

_“How’s that?” Jamie murmured, fingers at Alex’s ribs making small circles on the skin._

_“Oh,” Alex breathed. “Oh, that’s...god, Cookeh, you’re warm.”_

_Jamie smiled, swift and broad, and hummed at Alex’s commentary. “You feel perfect,” he countered, watching the colour rise in Alex’s cheekbones._

_Unable to help himself, Alex moaned, and leaned down to kiss Jamie firmly. His fingers slid over the smooth, ruddy skin, tangled in the hair on Jamie’s chest, until his fingertips were skating over the firm abdominal muscles and daring to flirt with the belt on Jamie’s jeans. When Alex’s fingers pulled the tongue of leather from the buckle, Jamie’s lips broke away from his, and he closed his hand over Alex’s._

_“Alex,” Jamie intoned deeply, waiting for the boy in question to open his eyes. “I’m certain that if you...if you do this, I’m not gonna want to stop.”_

_Alex swallowed thickly and nodded, staring into Jamie’s eyes as he pulled back on the leather, popping the prong from the hole, and slipping the belt open. The shuddering gasp Jamie heaved made Alex drop his gaze, and he watched as he settled his fingers on the button on Jamie’s jeans. Tracing his bottom lip with his tongue, he popped it open, eyes flicking to Jamie’s at the same time._

_Jamie clasped Alex’s wrists, growling roughly, and bucked, pulling the curious hands away, and toppling Alex to the side at the same time. A second later and Jamie was over him, hands spreading Alex’s knees wide to settle his hips between them. One hand landed on the couch beside Alex’s head, and the other snuck down to tug Alex’s teg over his hip. Then, he dropped his weight onto Alex, pushed his hips up, and fused their mouths together._

_Shifting into overdrive, Jamie became ravenous, and worked his tongue into the dark spaces of Alex’s mouth as his hips lifted. Fitting a hand between them, he pressed the heel of his palm against his own aching cock before turning fingers to Alex’s fly, tugging the button open, feeling the flutter of nervous muscles, and hearing Alex’s panting become frantic._

_It was almost too much, really, the sensations that Jamie was creating, and Alex scrambled to make sense of them as he felt a sharp tug at his hair, and another at his fly. Jamie’s mouth fell to his collarbones, teeth scoring the flesh there, and the beginnings of stubble rubbing him raw. Alex’s thighs tightened on Jamie’s hips, pulling their pelvises together as he grasped Jamie’s shoulders and pressed his fingertips into the hard muscle there. He felt his jeans yanked from his hips, down his thighs, and he yelped and managed to snare the top of his boxers before they went the way of the denim Jamie was now sliding down with his toes. If it deterred Jamie, he didn’t show it, and instead he suddenly stood, and finished unfastening his own jeans, before dipping his fingers into the hip pocket and pulling out a small bottle. Then, he let his jeans drop, his briefs going with them._

_He’d seen Jamie naked before; life on the road didn’t allow much in terms of privacy, and they were all as close as brothers. And a handful of those times, it had been just the two of them, finding a bit of comfort in the shower after a long night of playing, or perhaps an early morning before coffee and the paper. Still, Alex stared, enamoured with the sight of Jamie standing there, completely naked, and perfectly at ease. While his heart thumped madly, Alex’s eyes darted from Jamie’s open expression, to the blood coloring the skin of his chest and throat, to the span of his shoulders, the taper of his hips, the muscles of his thighs tensing and flexing as he moved. There, in between those thighs, surrounded by dark blond curls, Jamie was hard, thick and eager, and Alex twisted his hips in anticipation, and then allowed his thighs to fall open. Without hesitating, Jamie moved into action, and settled in the cradle that Alex offered._

_The blond sat back on his knees and contemplated Alex, dark curls mussed, eyes wide and bright, his mouth slack as he panted and writhed on the couch. The younger lad’s cock was a prominent bulge beneath the simple boxers he wore, and Jamie licked his lips, and then his thumb before holding Alex’s gaze and dropping a hand into the boy’s boxers. There, he grasped Alex’s stiff cock, pressing his wet thumb to the underside of the head, and rolling it around until Alex’s body bucked from the couch with a startled cry._

_“Fuck - Jameh!” Alex squeezed his eyes shut until he saw stars. He held his breath, feeling his chest about to burst as Jamie’s fist closed around him and began to pump. A languid groan filled the space, and Alex blushed when he realized the sound was coming from his own throat. Only Jamie could get him to sound like that, and he let his breath come and go as it would, pressing his head back into the arm of the couch and letting his thighs fall open a little more._

_“That’s it,” Jamie gently coaxed, his free hand moving to curl in the elastic of Alex’s boxers. “That feels good, don’t it?” He knew the answer of course; he knew Alex’s tells like he knew his own face. There was a shortness of breath, the biting of his bottom lip. the tension in his biceps as he clutched the arm of the couch behind his head and hung on for dear life. The effect he was having on Alex only spurred Jamie’s desire, and Jamie untangled his hand from the waistband of Alex's boxers and wrapped it around his own cock, stroking in time with Alex’s heaving breaths._

_“Fuckin’ ‘ell, Jameh, oh my god,” Alex groaned thickly, nodding, humming, gasping as Jamie’s fist tightened, and gave a half twist on every other pass. Alex’s cock was throbbing in the other boy’s grip, and he whimpered helplessly as he felt the tip of his cock grow slippery with every move of Jamie’s wrist._

_“You should see yourself like this,” Jamie beamed, dropping his lips to Alex’s chest and kissing him over his heart. Moving his mouth up, Jamie’s tongue slipped over the skin at the hollow of Alex’s throat, before he nibbled on his chin. “I can’t stop looking at you,” he muttered against Alex’s lips. He pulled back and dragged his gaze down the length of Alex’s body, and back up again to meet his darkened gaze. “I don’t want to forget any of this.”_

_Alex nodded, but he was in another world. He felt too big for his skin, and he gripped the couch harder and forced his hips into Jamie’s grip. “Please, Jameh, please, oh god, do summat. Please. It feels so fuckin’ good, babeh.”_

_Jamie smiled again, loving the way Alex’s words tumbled into each other, and he gently pulled Alex’s boxers down, working them over lean thighs, moving one leg and then the other to free him. Alex whimpered again as the cool air washed over heated skin and made a wave of goose flesh appear on his chest and thighs._

_Jamie shushed him, rubbing firm circles into his thighs and hips. “Can I have more?” Jamie asked thickly, his free hand already closing around the bottle he’d plucked from his pocket and set on the back of the couch. “Please, Alex, let me have you.” He popped the cap open, and Alex’s eyes blinked open, his mouth still gaping as he stared at the small bottle in Jamie’s grip._

_“I…” Alex panted and felt his guts drop as Jamie delivered another quick series of strokes to his cock. “Ah, Jameh, I….” But he couldn’t form words he didn’t really want to say. He thought maybe they should stop, take a moment to collect themselves, but Jamie was taking his silence for acquiescence, and if Alex was honest with himself, he didn’t want to stop. But maybe, “Slow down?”_

_Jamie’s head came up from where he was watching the slick liquid dribble from the bottle to his fingertips, and he fixed Alex with a wide-eyed gaze. “Yeah,” he said without hesitation. “Yeah, Alex, of course. It’s joost me, yeah?” He swiped his slippery fingers over the tip of Alex’s cock and squeezed, and Alex stiffened and moaned. Jamie smirked and fell on Alex, kissing him again. “It’s joost me. You’re safe wiv me.”_

_Alex nodded, opening his eyes into the kiss, and sweeping his hands over Jamie’s back, taking in the familiar warmth and weight of his lover’s frame. They stayed like that for a spell, kissing, touching, murmuring into each other’s mouths, until Alex became pliant, and nodded when Jamie asked if he could touch Alex inside._

_It was a peculiar sensation, to say the least, warm and yet sharp, stark, full, and yes, a little painful. Jamie’s movements were delicate, and he was patient as he worked his middle finger into the tight ring of Alex’s entrance. Every inch was accompanied by the rhythmic stroke of Jamie’s fist on his cock, a kiss, a word of reassurance, and a reminder to breathe. He told Alex to relax, and to push against him if it felt good. And oh god, suddenly, it felt really good, and Alex couldn’t help but adhere to Jamie’s instructions. He wiggled his hips and met Jamie’s palm as it cupped his balls, and he sighed as his eyes fluttered shut._

_“How’s that?”_

_“S’good,” Alex mumbled, sounding drunk. In a way, he was, and he nodded, emphasizing his response._

_“Yeah?” Jamie asked, his voice laced with mischief._

_“Jameh?” Alex picked up on the change in Jamie’s voice - he knew that tone all too well. “What-” He choked on his next words as Jamie curled his finger deep, upwards and then forwards, brushing Alex’s prostate. Light burst behind his eyes as Jamie’s fist tightened on his cock, and Alex cried out, thin and sharp. “Fuck!”_

_Jamie eased off, working his finger gently once more, and leaned down to Alex’s ear, tongue tracing the edge before he breathed, “Think you can take another?”_

_Alex hesitated, and turned his face into his bicep as his cheeks burned. “I - I want to,” he admitted. “Go slow?”_

_“Of course,” Jamie reassured him, reaching for the lube once more, and upending it where he breached Alex. Placing the tip of his index finger against Alex, he looked up into the liquid warmth of Alex’s eyes and gently pushed, coaxing the muscles to relax. “Shhh, there’s a good lad, yeah? God, Alex, you’re tight. So fuckin’ hot, you know? I’ve got ya, relax, Al.”_

_And he worked like this, encouraging Alex, pausing before he proceeded, until Alex was writhing under Jamie, and Jamie had three fingers buried three knuckles deep. He used his thumb to press against the skin between Alex’s arse and balls, stroking steadily while he continued to leak from the tip of his cock. Jamie happily used this to his advantage too, adding it to the slickness of Alex’s shaft, twisting and tugging until Alex was almost in tears._

_Combined with it all was Jamie’s constant litany and his praise for Alex, punctuated by a shaking voice, and trembling hands. He heard a small sound and looked up from the sight of Alex pushing back against his touch, and he saw Alex’s mouth moving, before the bottom lip was drawn between his teeth, and a moan escaped his throat._

_“What, Alex, tell me. It’s good, innit? When I touch you like this?”_

_Alex heaved a ragged breath and groaned, “More.”_

_“More? Hmm? You want more, Alex?”_

_Alex keened, and nodded. “Yes,” he answered. “I - god, I don’t know what, Jamie, I joost want more.”_

_Jamie kissed him again, open-mouthed, soft and wet, and worked his fingers free. “Relax,” he murmured, sitting back on his heels and reaching for the lube once more. “Give me your hand,” he instructed._

_Drawing a shaky breath, Alex loosened his grip on the arm of the couch and extended his hand towards Jamie, who took it, and poured lube into the palm. Guiding Alex’s hand towards his own cock, Jamie watched the flicker of Alex’s tongue when his fingers finally settled on Jamie’s shaft, and he groaned at the way Alex’s lips quirked up as he began stroking. It made him hiss, the hesitant way Alex always started off. Now was no exception; despite the fact Jamie had thoroughly fucked the younger man with with is fingers, Alex still had the nerve to blush and bite his lip as he took a hold of Jamie and stroked quick and sure._

_Jamie groaned, and let his head roll back, eyes staring at the ceiling as Alex worked. He couldn’t keep his hips from bouncing with each stroke, and he heard Alex gasp before a slender thumb swept over the swollen head, and spread the liquid that beaded there around the perimeter. Jamie’s hands fell to Alex’s legs once more, and he looped them around his hips and tugged, pulling Alex further down the couch, sucking a sharp breath between his teeth as their dicks tapped against one another. Glancing down, he gasped when he found Alex staring up at him, his gaze one of awe-struck lust._

_Alex watched as Jamie swept down again, kissing him - always kissing him, god, he could kiss him forever if it was allowed - fingers twining with Alex’s where they still stroked him, and together, they pressed Jamie against the slick pucker of Alex’s arse. The dark-eyed lad broke away with a sigh, and blinked up at Jamie, who stared back, and arched his hips._

_“You ready?” Jamie murmured, sliding the tip of his cock over and around the sensitive area._

_The head of dark hair nodded vigorously, followed by a hoarse, “Yes.” Jamie hummed and held his cock steady, and increased the pressure of his hips, pausing as Alex caught his breath and closed his eyes._

_“Alex,” Jamie murmured, dropping to one forearm so that he could touch Alex’s jaw. “Alex, look at me, yeah? Breathe, and look at me.”_

_The breath Alex drew was shuddering, and his eyes opened halfway, focusing on Jamie, who could only groan, and kiss Alex again. Sweeping his tongue over Alex’s, he worked the first inches of his length inside, and Alex’s legs tightened on Jamie’s hips, pulling his mouth away with another soft whimper. Once more, Alex’s hands flew over his head and clutched the couch, and his hips arched up, eager to take more of Jamie, despite the strange fullness that he was experiencing._

_“You all right?” Jamie rasped, shifting his hips, moving deeper by a fraction of an inch._

_Alex swallowed and nodded quickly, but his expression was tight, and Jamie sensed the tension right all over Alex’s body, right to the point where they were connected. He needed more, and so did Alex._

_“Touch me Al, it’s okay, you can hold on to me,” Jamie urged, wanting nothing more than for Alex to find comfort and grounding in him._

_He could handle it it for the both of them, he just needed to be touching Alex everywhere he could. He moved his hand from where he’d been guiding himself inside of Alex and balanced on both forearms. His hips rolled again, and a broken sob made Jamie pause and bite his lip until he tasted blood. Alex’s eyes screwed shut, and the tendons in his neck stood out as he dug his head back into the couch with grunt. Leaving off the couch, Alex’s fingers dug into Jamie’s shoulders, halfway between pushing him away and pulling him closer._

_Jamie winced at the younger lad’s grip. “Alex, please, I won’t hurt you, but you’ve got to relax. I’ve got ya.” The thought of causing Alex discomfort made Jamie’s skin crawl, and in a last ditch effort, he cupped the smaller lad’s face with his hands, and dropped a small, sweet kiss to the parted lips, and whispered his desire._

_“Look at me, Al, look at me, nowt else you need to worry about.” Alex’s eyes blinked open, wet with unshed tears, staring up into Jamie’s blue gaze, and his hold on Jamie eased, fingers sliding over sweat-soaked skin, still holding on for dear life, but no longer frantic. Jamie smiled shyly, and brushed the curls from Alex’s forehead. “There you are,” he murmured. “I'll take care of ya. I'm your Cookie, yeah? I'm yours, babeh, god, I'm yours forever."_

+

There is a reason why _Fireside_ is never played in concert.

Alex sits on his balcony, tepid autumn air blowing by, pulling pieces from his queue and making them stick to his forehead. He smokes, and he thinks about a million things - all the dreadful times stuck on balconies, all the hotel suites he’s lived in, and the ones that still lurked on the corner of memory lane and the boulevard of broken dreams. Somewhere down the hall Matt is singing Manhattan Transfer to his baby girl, and Jamie is saying goodnight to his son somewhere overhead, but Alex can’t keep from going back to that space, that night, that first time. He shivers when recalls exactly what Jamie sounded like, and he sneers at the ache in his throat as he remembers the tears, and the way Jamie had brushed them aside with his fears and his doubts.

He’d written _Fireside_ in that room, on the couch that had seen more than that first night, and he’d more or less purged his patheticness on the page, and held it up for Jamie to see. Jamie, of course, had the irritating talent of appearing unaffected, and so when asked by the media, Alex had merely shrugged, said Arabella was real, and that he wouldn’t give out her address.

There is a knock on his door sometime later, and Alex glances at the ashtray, and the butts from half a pack that stud the ash-ridden plastic. For a moment, he thinks he’s hearing things, and so he doesn’t bother moving. 

Another knock comes, and this time Alex whips around to stare at the door at the other end of the hotel room. He’d been stupid to call Jamie out earlier, to dredge old memories up, but he’s not so self-conscious to think that they didn’t lurk just below the surface of Jamie’s well-developed facade.

He holds his breath and waits for his heart, and the knuckles, to stop knocking about.

Dying, he thinks, would be better than the agony that waits expectantly in the hallway.

He turns back to the night, and lights another cigarette.


	2. Journeys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Jamie realizes the cyclical nature of the universe, and how all things must obey the roundabout, and Alex defines the term 'obstreperous'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All recognizable elements herein are property of their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.
> 
> So...this turned into a three part story. *ducks and hides*

The set of Alex’s shoulders is all wrong. Jamie can notice that from across the lawn as soon as Alex slinks into Matt’s party, unannounced, but very much noticed. The dark-eyed man tries to brush it off, to come across unaffected by the sudden buzz - _Alex is here! Oh, Alex is here, did you see him? I need to go talk to him. Who’s he wearing? Who’d he bring? Who, what, where, when_...over and over the questions flit around Jamie as he takes another slug from his fourth - wait, fifth? - beer of the night. He’s lost Katie to the pristine whiteness of Helder’s new LA mansion. God, it was so fucking _white. Everything_ was white, the walls, the carpets, the stone out here, so clean, so unsullied, and contrasting completely with Alex’s black on black look for the evening. But the shoulders are all wrong: they’re tense, sloped up, and he’s fidgeting with his lighter, the loose change in his pocket, shuffling his feet, finding it hard to focus on anything in his line of sight - 

Anything, that is, except for Jamie. One look in his direction, and Jamie utters the word fuck under his breath because now it seems as though he’s trapped in the thick, molasses colored depths that make up Alex’s gaze.

“Are you alright?” A delicate hand lands on Jamie’s arm, paired with an equally delicate voice, and soft, sweet scent.

Jamie looks, and can’t tell if getting trapped in Katie’s keen, blue-gray gaze is any better than getting snared by Alex. Either way, he feels like a fucking shit, strung out between the love of his life and the other love of his life. He doesn’t even known which is which at this point, he just knows that one look from Alex has sealed his fate: Jamie is not going home with Katie tonight, and the reason he knows this is because in that quick, sticky gaze from the other man, it has become abundantly clear that Alex needs a fix that only Jamie can provide.

And Jamie is more than willing to do so. Maybe if he wasn’t five - no, _six_ beers in now, Jamie _might_ feel a little remorse at the fact that he’s actively thinking about fucking another man while his wife curls her arm into the crook of his elbow and steers him around Helders’ party. She unknowingly saves her husband from drowning, but he’s not so certain he wants to continue on breathing in this manner.

+

Alex hasn’t been the same since the last time he shared his bed with Jamie, and that was more than a year gone, now. Alex feels trapped in his skin, and the situations he’s faced with, unable to concentrate on the faces he’s dealt, or the words he’s seeking, and he feels terribly inadequate in every setting he’s thrown into. He feels fake, and like he’s floundering, and though he keeps a very cool facade in the face of strangers, inside he’s shaking uncontrollably, unable to make his blood settle from the way it twists in his veins, aching for some semblance of what he’s come to associate with normalcy. He _needs_ Jamie; he discovered this after being apart from him for so long, and then reconnecting in England after a long spell in LA. It had been Jamie who pushed to get back to the studio; he felt the urge more than the others, and it usually infected Alex fully, but this time, the dark-eyed lad had been reluctant to go. However, at the urging of a few close friends not tied to the band, and a bit of encouragement from those who were, Alex bundled up his notebooks and packed his guitars, and had headed back across the pond for a spell, where he discovered new sounds, but very old, and familiar feelings.

_Glass Jacket_ had shot to the number one spot within two days of it being released. It was a rush, to say the least, and he’d found himself in their PR’s office a few weeks later where they began outlining their tour. To say he was distracted was an understatement, and every time Matt piped up with suggestions as to how to work time in with his wife and new baby, or pointed out that perhaps Katie and Breana and the kids could meet them in Paris, in Rome, in Berlin, Alex checked out, staring down at the outlined itinerary, trying to recall where the best bars were, who served until 6 am, and anywhere he could still actually smoke in public.

He’s snapped back to the present, standing in Helders’ garden with a cigarette in hand, trying to catch up to some story Josh is telling, when he feels it. At first, he tries to ignore it, the weighted gaze dragging over him, willing him to turn and look. He knows it’s Jamie standing back there, because Alex had sought him out when he first arrived, his dark gaze snagging on the blond, and his glowing new-mother bride. Then, he’d quickly shuffled towards the back gate, to where Wootton elbows Kane, and Alex tries to avoid the latter’s gaze, too. It’s old hat, that Scouse delight, something that Alex has tried a dozen times and tells himself he doesn’t feel the urge to taste again. But more oft than not, he finds himself craving the pull of desperate hands on his skin, even though the hands aren’t broad enough, and the feeling not as deep. Still a dalliance, perhaps, but if Miles knew, he accepted his lot in Alex’s world without question, perhaps just as satisfied to waste time.

Gin and tonic goes well with the evening. It’s too hot for whiskey, and Alex shrugs out of his leather jacket as his blood rises under his collar. The pool looks rather inviting, and wouldn’t it be wild to just jump right in? He eyes the blue surface, wondering if he ‘s drunk enough to take the chance, but raucous laughter erupts from somewhere near the house and all attention is diverted for the time being. Alex cranes his neck, but it’s useless - he’s too fucking short to see anything from this angle, and rumors of a ‘proper keg stand’ and shotgunning filter through the crowd. Hollywood antics, it seems, appear to be the same as those from high school. Really, it’s all the same, the posturing, the who’s dating who, the who fucked behind the bleachers after the big game, who got blown in the lighting booth, what’s on the lunch menu, you can’t smoke here, you can’t wear this, you can’t say that. Alex makes a face, drains his glass, and shoves his way around the patio to slip in unnoticed, looking for a refill, and perhaps a way to get off the hook.

+

Jamie has been in the house a handful of times before this night; but in the dark, everything seems a bit off. It’s the way of the universe, he supposes, and when the sun rises perhaps things will look plain again, in that sort of dull sheen that covers all he sees these days. Fatherhood is hard, but his girl is a champion, and so he doesn’t complain. But he misses the duality he existed in, no matter how hard it was, or what the consequences brought - one part doting husband, the other a side dish in Alex’s life. Perhaps it was his lot in life to just be on the wrong side of wholly satisfied, always searching for something more. Right now, that something is a drink, nothing more, and he winds his way from the entry in the back porch, past the media room, down the hall, and he almost makes it to the kitchen but something dark, and rather threatening blocks his path.

Alex knocks about the hallway, his shoulder colliding with another swath of blinding white, made black in the dark, and he almost blends in until his long-fingered hand slides over plaster and paint, and fumbles with a lightswitch he somehow knows is there.

Light floods the narrow space, and Jamie flinches, his eyes blurred from liquor, his head pounding from too much thought.

“Well, well,” Alex purrs, suddenly standing straight and cocking his head at Jamie. “Lookie, lookie… I found me a Cookie.”

Jamie is silent, merely blinking at the object of all that troubles him.

“You not talkin’ to me now?” Alex drawls, pouting a bit, and slinking forward.

Jamie holds his ground, and inhales deeply as Alex gives him a once over, his bottom lip between his teeth. Jamie manages to reply, “Got nowt to say,” but his voice is thick. Words may be escaping him, but his physical conversations with Alex always seem to outweigh the verbal, anyway.

Alex snorts and rolls his eyes, and glances at where his knuckles drag over the wall absently. “That so?” His gaze then slides back to Jamie. “That why you’re knockin’ on me hotel room door three weeks ago?” He pouts then, shifting his body, inviting Jamie inside.

Jamie tightens his jaw at Alex’s glibness, but he can’t resist what Alex is offering. He leans against the wall, mirroring Alex’s stance, and allows his fingers to slide along the cool surface until they tangle with Alex’s. “Weren’t like you were interested then,” Jamie utters, looking at Alex from under his brows. “So what does it matter now?” With his fingers clutching those of the dark-eyed lad, he pulls Alex smoothly towards him, until their bodies are lined up, pelvises brushing, thighs nudging, and the air between them sails back and forth over each other’s mouths. Jamie licks his lips, aching to kiss Alex, but knowing better than to give in so easily. He’s been hurt by Alex before. 

That last thought sort of slips through the cracks that are being created in the moment, and Alex tilts his head up, and to one side, and then he’s kissing Jamie. It’s been five hundred days since they’ve done this, but old habits die hard, and soon Jamie is crowding Alex back against the wall. It’s hard, this kiss, this moment; Alex’s shoulders collide and rattle the pictures, and his feet clunk on the floor as he tries to keep his footing. A knee presses in between Alex’s thighs and snugs up against his balls, enough to make him suck in a breath and pull his lips away from Jamie with a soft moan. 

Wide dark eyes stare up at Jamie, and fingers curl into the fabric of Jamie’s shirt. Narrow hips wind, and Alex can’t think of a reason why rutting against Jamie’s thigh in Helders’ hallway could be a bad thing. He moves a hand to Jamie’s hip and tugs, needing more, and wanting to offer himself up in return. They could slip down the hall and be done with it. “It could be so easy,” he concludes, staring at Jamie’s mouth, pulling at his heart via his belt loops.

Realizing his mistake, Jamie shakes his head and then pries Alex’s fingers from where they clutch him. “Alex we can’t…” He breaks off and sucks in a deep breath. “I can’t keep doing this.”

Alex glares, narrowing his eyes and sneering. “Oh, that’s right.” He presses back against the wall, trying to put any sort of distance between him and Jamie. “M’sorreh, Cookeh, I forgot that you’re the only one who’s ‘urtin’ with this.” His sarcasm is like butter on a burn, and Jamie blisters.

“If you think for one second that I’m not taking your feelings into consideration, then I suppose you don’t know me at all.” Jamie goes to push passed Alex, but the smaller man closes his grip on Jamie’s elbow.

“ _Consideration_ ;? Are you fookin’ _kiddin’_ me, Jameh? If this is your idea of ‘consideration’, I’d hate to think what your definition of ‘unkind’ is.”

“ _Alex_ ,” Jamie hisses. “There are other people besides joost you an’ me.” 

Alex reels back and takes a moment to digest Jamie’s statement, and then there’s movement at the end of the hallway, behind Jamie. Alex’s gaze flickers up and over Jamie’s shoulder, and then he’s smiling, laughing, and it’s fake in nature, and grating in sound. 

“All right, then, Jameh, you tell Katie I say ‘hello’, an give Benji a kiss from his uncle Al, aye?” 

Jamie sneers silently at Alex’s pursed and indignant smile, and then watches the younger man turn with another bubble of acidic laughter, and walk away. 

“Eh, Jamie, you get lost? Kitchen’s this way - your drink looks empty!” Nick barrels in beside Jamie and slings an arm over his shoulders. “That Al? You two ‘ave seen less than...chummy as of late.” 

“Fuck off, Mal,” Jamie growls, shrugging Nick’s arm off. “Let’s go get me that drink.” 

The idea of washing Alex’s taste from his mouth is daunting, but he knows it’s the only way he’s going to come out of this evening unscathed. 

_+_

“You’re a fookin’ rockstar, a frontman, get your fookin’ shite together an act like the thing they want you to be.” Alex sneers at his reflection and then rolls his eyes. _Reduced to givin’ yourself pep talks in the bathroom, is it? When the fuck did my life get so out of control?_ He pauses on that thought for a moment, tracing the route from here to the beginning, and the only logical answer he comes up with, over and over, is Jamie fucking Cook. His mouth is still swollen from Jamie’s kiss, a little red from the scrape of stubble, and his cock is still aching with the feel of Jamie’s thigh pressed against him. 

The door to the bathroom where Alex is standing suddenly pops open, and Miles tumbles in, howling at some joke he’s heard in the hallway. When he realizes that the space is occupied, he looks sheepish for all of two seconds before he recognizes the lithe figure holding himself up against the counter and shooting him a steely glare through half-lidded eyes. 

“Al!” He shrieks, sidling up and nudging the man in question with his shoulder. “Christ, been lookin’ _everywhere_ for ya! Gone an’ left me to the wolves out there.” His smile is dazzling in the halo of light overhead, and Alex winces at the sharpness of his giggle. “You all right?” Miles asks, turning towards the toilet and unzipping his fly. 

A second later, the sound of a steady stream of piss hitting the water in the bowl echoes on the porcelain, and Alex rolls his eyes behind closed lids, and tightens his grip on the sink. Trust Miles to barrell in unannounced and just take over. The toilet flushes, and then Miles is elbowing Alex away from the sink, and washing his hands. When he’s done, he looks at Alex’s reflection in the mirror, finding the smaller man staring at the wall. 

“Jesus, you’re rather sober for this party, aren’t you?” 

Miles’ observation causes Alex to giggle. He’s far from any definition of sober, having found the Hendricks stashed at the back of Matt’s liquor cabinet. He’s been pouring himself doubles all night, and barely topping it off with tonic, and now he’s muddled like the cucumber left to soften and warm at the bottom of the glass he’s abandoned on the counter. 

“Miles, m’fookin’ _hammered_.” 

“Yeah?” Miles breathes, and suddenly his hands are on Alex’s shoulders, sliding up to Alex’s neck, thumbs tracing his jaw as he pushes Alex back against the wall. “Look at me, laa - _Christ_ ,” he groans with an electric smile. “Ah yeah, baby, you’re trashed. I love it.” He kisses Alex soundly, for all of three seconds, and then pulls away wetly, smacking his lips and reaching for the pocket inside of his jacket. “Want a treat? Somethin’ to sharpen the edges?” 

Alex sucks the taste of Miles’ mouth off of his lips, and watches as the Scouser quickly locates a small mirror, and upends a vial of familiar shape and size. He cuts rough lines in what little coke he has left - the way he’s vibrating tells Alex that Miles has been snorting the stuff all night long. And while he wants to treat, he doesn’t want to make the payment Miles expects, and so he starts to say, 

“Nah, I’m -” 

“Just... _don’t_ , all right, Alex? Don’t say you’re fine, cuz I know you’re not.” He leans down with a flat chuckle, and snorts a line. Licking his pinky finger, he stands and presses the wet digit into the next line, and holds it up in front of Alex’s gaze. “C’mon. I’ve never steered ya wrong, laa.” 

Alex’s tongue is licking Miles’ finger clean a moment later, and he locks eyes with Miles as he does so. When he’s pursing his lips around the tip, Miles grins, and slips his hand into the back of Alex’s hair, loose for once, and full of thick curls. “Christ, Turner, don’t know what you’re better at - suckin’ cock, or suckin’ blow. Give us a kiss, laa, an’ hurry, cuz I got things to do.” He yanks Alex’s mouth to his, and kisses him rather cruelly. 

Miles’ tongue flicks across Alex’s teeth, up to the gumline where he’s rubbed the cocaine, hoping for a different rush. The Scouser pulls back quickly once more, and laughs at the way Alex sags in disappointment. “Eh...that stuff should kick in any moment, an’ then maybe you won’t be such a fuckin’ drag. Cheer up, laa - your record is number with a fucking bullet. You can have anythin’ you want.” Alex isn’t so sure that last bit was meant to be supportive in any way. If anything, it sounds like the Scouser is mocking him. 

Like a whirlwind, Miles is gone seconds later, and Alex is left standing in the bathroom, wondering if he dreamt the whole scene. But then he looks back to the mirror and feels it: That slice and dice of his veins, that electricity bubbling in his brain, and the thousand horse-power roar of his blood as is pounds in time with his heart. His eyes are like rocket engines, full blown and full blast, hot to ten thousand degrees, and there’s a ringing in his ears akin to standing in front of the monitors cranked all the way to ten, and then some. 

_You can have anythin’ you want_ , Miles’ voice coos in the back of his brain. 

And what Alex wants right now, is to slowly, and deliberately, self destruct. 

\+ 

“Christ on the cross, is that _Turner_? Wha’ th’fook is ‘e doin’?” 

Jamie looks up from the tequila he’s pouring - well, spilling, really - and glances at Nick, who’s staring out the window, mouth gaping, and reddened eyes wide and glassy. 

“Ehh?” Jamie tosses the shot back, and he can’t even really taste it anymore. He’s certain his nerve endings have melted, and he can’t feel his knees or his fingertips, so he sort of oozes in next to Nick at the kitchen window, and hears the crowd start to chant and roar. “Th’ fuck?” 

“Oh my god, he’s completely fookin’ _wasted_ ,” Nick chuckles, turning to press his forehead to Jamie’s shoulder as his body shakes with laughter. “Christ, _look_ at him!” The bass player cackles, and then he’s tugging Jamie towards the door. “Let’s go - oh my god, where’s Helders? Get the fookin’ camera!” 

Jamie and Nick spill into the gathering crowd, and it’s quite a party at this point, but the guests have turned their attentions to the small man swaggering around the pool, shucking his shirt and unbuckling his pants. 

“You had anybody in this pool yet, Helders?” Alex crows, standing on one foot to tug his shoe off the other. He stumbles a bit, crashing against Miles, who is clutching Alex’s discarded clothes and laughing along with him. 

“No, not yet,” Matt calls back, his face split with a silly, drunken smile, arm thrown around Breana who’s watching with amused interest. 

“Bout time we christen it, don’t you think?” Alex staggers again, fumbling with his other shoe, and then eyes the crowd. “Oh, c’mon, don’t tell me you all don’t want to join in.” 

Back beside Nick, Jamie lets out a sigh, and mutters under his breath, “ _This isn’t you_.” 

“Eh?” Nick calls, glancing back to Jamie. 

“Nowt,” Jamie mumbles, turning back to Alex’s striptease. 

“C’mon, now, people, let’s get this party proper, eh? Who’s wiv me?” 

The crowd cheers Alex on, and more than a few people follow suit, stripping down to their underwear. 

“Where’s me boys?” Alex suddenly cries, scanning the crowd with manic, glassy eyes. “Mal! Helders!” He receives callbacks from both men, and they move towards Alex, laughing and ridding themselves of their clothing. Alex looks up from where he’s contemplating his fly and he looks out on to the sea of people. “Cooooookie,” he sings. 

Jamie’s breath catches in his throat, and in his mind, he curses Alex a blue streak. 

“Oh my god, Alex got into the coke, didn’t he?” Katie asks as she falls in beside Jamie. “Aren’t you gonna join in, baby?” 

Jamie panics because yes, Alex got into the coke, and no, he doesn’t want to join in. Alex mixed with coke and whatever he’s been drinking - gin, from the way he smelled in the hallway - is recipe for a ticking timebomb, and Jamie knows enough that he’s not safe from fallout unless he’s a thousand miles away. 

Alex’s drunken warble continues, and it swims through Jamie’s drunken haze. “Where’s me Cookeh at? Eh? C’mon, Cookeh, don’t be shy. We’re all brothers here.” 

Katie nudges Jamie forward. “C’mon, go to,” she giggles. Next, Katie yells out, “He’s here, Al,” and she gives Jamie a little push forward. 

“ _Katie_ ,” he hisses, turning and staring at her with pleading eyes. “Please - can we go?” 

“Jamie?” She looks up at him, puzzled. 

Jamie opens his mouth to reply, but he feels the hot surface of Alex’s skin as it connects with his. The younger lad has an arm about his neck and is pulling, his face as close to Jamie’s as it was in the hallway. Now, however, Alex’s blood is high octane, and Jamie can practically smell the blow in his veins, so he puts his hands on Alex’s waist, resisting the urge to curl his thumbs into the narrow hipbones, and tries to push the lad away. He’s never been successful in any form of the activity, and tonight is no exception. He narrows his eyes at any rate, and gruffly tells Alex to stop it. 

Alex _laughs_. He has the fucking nerve to purse his mouth tightly, and curl his lip, scrunching his nose as his eyes turn to shards of obsidian, and he laughs at Jamie’s discomfort, and tightens the arm around Jamie’s neck, long fingers tucking into the blood hair that brushes Jamie’s collar. 

“Care to take a dip?” Alex mutters, already walking backwards. 

“Fuck _off_ , Al,” Jamie sneers, trying to maintain a smile, and some modicum of the friendship he and Alex are supposed to be sharing. 

Alex huffs, and rolls his eyes, but the crows around them begins to chant, “ _Coo-kie! Coo-kie! Coo-kie_!” The urgency makes Alex’s smile return, and he continues to tug Jamie towards the edge of the pool. 

“Alex, I’m warnin’ you - _don’t_ -” 

“That would have been ‘elpful about ten years ago, eh, James? Come on, it’s only the deep end.” 

And with that, Alex tips backwards and watches as Jamie’s face closes in and darkens, before they are submerged in a tremendous _splash_ , and a foam of roaring bubbles. 

The sound is deafening, rushing water and air bursting in the wake of their undertow, and Alex’s arm never lets up from Jamie’s neck, and Jamie’s fingers have only tightened where they grasp Alex’s waist. Above the surface of the water comes the muffled sounds of cheers, and laughter, and there’s a handful of seconds where Alex and Jamie blink at one another, murky as bare eyes can be, and then they are a watery dance of teeth and tongues and fingers wrapped in hair. Two more bodies hit the water, and then half a dozen more, all slicing the depths like human torpedos. The pool is fizzing like a hangover remedy, and Alex and Jamie are forced apart by propriety, and the treading limbs surrounding them. 

Alex breaks the surface first, sputtering and wiping water from his eyes, his mouth still numb with the throb of Jamie’s kiss. Two seconds later and Jamie bubbles up, and in a burst of complete and utter anger, he throws a fist into Alex’s mouth. There’s a collective gasp, and Alex’s lip busts open, blood spilling down his chin. As soon as Jamie sees it, he feels sick, but Nick is already on him, yanking his arm while Matt yells a string of confused curses, and checks to see if Alex is all right. It’s happened so quickly that to anyone on the outside, it looks like a flurry of limbs and not much else, though perhaps words are exchanged. Nick can feel Jamie trembling, and it’s not because he’s soaking wet. Matt never thought he’d see the day that any of them fought, at least to the point of throwing punches. 

Jamie shakes the water from his hair, and swipes at his nose with the hand that Nick isn’t holding. He levels Alex with his stare, and damn if the stubborn dark-haired lad doesn’t just glare right back, as Matt tries to talk him down from whatever high he’s on. From the peripheral, Miles watches, and Jamie can feel the Scouser’s gaze as it flickers from him, to Alex, to Alex’s bloody, and rapidly swelling lip. Jamie forces himself to meet Miles’ eyes where he stands on the pool apron, dry as a bone, Alex’s clothes still clutched in his grasp. The blond pours every ounce of annoyance and hate into his stare - despite what Alex had argued weeks before, Miles is very much at the root of their problem, but an offshoot, and one that Jamie has the urge to clip, and let wither and die. 

Nick hauls Jamie out of the pool, and more guests have gathered, their voices murmuring, rising and falling as they recount events as they see fit. Katie watches from the sidelines, horrified that her husband would throw a punch at Alex - she saw it all, and wonders just what exactly happened. Jamie has a temper, but one that he controls rather well, and he’s never violent. The look Jamie gets from her is one of confusion, and he has the decency to look ashen. Still, he shrugs Nick off and gruffly remarks that he’s okay. He watches as Alex turns his back on him and slinks away, ego bruised more than the lip, Jamie guesses, but it serves the little fucker right. Katie mutters something about Jamie heading back to the hotel - she’s staying here with Breana tonight, and for the first time in a long time, Jamie feels a modicum of relief. He needs to be alone. 

He tells himself this over and over as the cab takes him downtown, up the strip, to a hotel halfway between Matt’s home, and Alex’s. He repeats it in his mind, over and over, like perhaps if he says it enough, he’ll believe it. Of course, once he’s in his room and he’s tugged the damp clothing loose, he realizes that he won’t adhere to it. Because no matter how rocky the terrain is that he navigates, how many bumps and hairpin turns there are, how many times he exceeds the speed limit or ignores the dead end signs, no matter how many pit stops he makes along the way to look back at where he’s come from, there’s really only one starting point, and one ending point, and all directions are leading him to Alex. 


	3. Destinations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, they’ll come, and they’ll come full circle and realize that through origins, and journeys, they are each other’s destination, no matter how dismal, and no matter what they do to change the course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All recognizable elements herein are the property of their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.
> 
> Y'all ready for the angst mobile? You might want to get some tissues and some ice cream or a stuffed animal or a cozy sweater or summat, whatever you need for comfort. I cried. I hope all of you do, too. Excessive analogies to the universe, banking, and driving are in abundance, people, so be warned. Kudos and comments are manna from heaven, lovelies.

Alex threw his moral compass out the window approximately 7 years ago. It didn’t take much, really, just six weeks in the desert, which seemed like a lifetime then, and still does now - a stolen one, perhaps, but vivid nonetheless, and wrought with the color of lust, and the vibrancy of emotions. He’s not an idiot; he knows well and true that the fissures in his heart are caused by his undeniable love for Jamie. And he _does_ love him, despite the god awful ways he shows it. He knows it’s not easy for Jamie, living a double life, but surely Jamie knows the anxiety caused by living out of touch with oneself. Alex is into blokes, sure, it’s plain as the nose on his face, but he still lives in relative secrecy, wanting something he’s not sure he’ll ever have all to himself.

Perhaps he’s being foolish, and he’s being selfish, but he was raised to adhere to the notion of two people - not necessarily one man, one woman these days, but two people, nothing more - existing and living for one another. Then, of course, _then_ he tells himself that isn’t that what Jamie has? Isn’t that what Jamie’s got back in Sheffield, a home, a house, built up of love, so alarmingly simple? That’s what it seemed to be, and that’s what he’s always reasoned - that Jamie is cut and dry, is black and white, but now, it appears that there is gray everywhere. Even the ache in his lip, the place that’s split, throbbing and bleeding, is gray, and it’s impossible not to prod it with his tongue, like he prods Jamie with this _thing_ they are, dangling it before bright blue eyes and saying without ever opening his mouth, _‘It’s right here, Jamie, won’t you just consider it?’_

He’s in a cab that’s driving down the strip towards Jamie’s hotel, assured in the fact that a rather upset Katie has chosen to spend the night at the Helders’ home. It used to be that Alex thought talk was cheap, especially when it came to him and Jamie, for what could words say that grasping hands and shuddering lips could not? Lack of speech, he’s discovered, has cost him more than anything, and perhaps if he and Jamie weren’t so fucking stubborn, so hell bent on pushing boundaries without establishing them in the first place, then they wouldn’t feel the need to resort to extreme physicalities. Jamie’s blow had come as a surprise, but not from a place unwarranted. The dip in the pool, combined with the snap-back of Alex’s head and the sting of his lip, had all served to slingshot him back to sobriety at an alarming speed. Before he knew what was happening, Matt was tugging him back towards the stairs, and Nick was hauling Jamie out of the pool, and the four of them felt something in their harmony go slightly off key.

It’s a forty-dollar cab ride, but he’d pay a thousand times that to get to Jamie, and drive a million times the distance. That’s what it is for him to be in love; at one time he fancied himself going that far for Lex, and for Mi, but it didn’t matter which road he ended up on, Jamie was always at the rest stops on the way, a pleasant detour he didn’t know he wanted, a point of interest he didn’t know he cared about until he’d left it behind in the dust. And then he’d become obsessed, trying to find that same place, that same time, but it was clear to him that they had vanished, like those years, and all he had was today, right now, that very moment in the back of the cab: should he tuck tail and tell the guy to take him back to his place?

His wallet is lighter when he steps onto the curb, and to spare a few minutes, he ducks into the shop around the corner and picks up a pack of Boddington’s. He then turns towards the hotel, and he’s glad he’d had the foresight to listen in when Matt asked Katie the room number after he and Nick had settled Jamie into a cab. He makes no stops in the lobby; he’s been here before, and he heads for the elevator bank where he presses the button with purpose and waits with his eyes directed at the panel of numbers that light up. When the doors to a car behind him open, he steps inside. 

When the doors close, he sees himself reflected on the highly polished brass plates that line the car, and he hastily pats down his pockets for something to hold his hair back. The pack of Boddington’s is set aside as he smoothes out the sides and top of his hair, pulling the damp, curling strands into a knot at the back of head and securing them with the elastic he’s found deep in his jacket pocket. His clothes are damp, too, jeans starting to itch where he’s pulled them over wet thighs and boxers; the front of his shirt is darker in spots where his hair has dripped. He tugs at his leather jacket, willing it to fit him like it always has, but something is off. He’s lost a little bit of weight since Bogota, and he feels like perhaps his jacket is swallowing him whole.

His stomach twists. This was a bad idea. Coming here, tracking Jamie down, seeking him out - what could he expect but another fist to the face? He tells himself that’s not Jamie, but the stark reality is that he’s not sure who Jamie _is_ anymore. The thought frightens him, and fits nicely with the notion that perhaps he doesn’t know himself, either. Greatness had been thrust upon them, and in the wake of adoration and the circus fanfare, life had happened. On the cusp of grasping the world, they had eased off, taken a step back into reality, and made themselves men of family.

All, that is, save Alex. He’s been drifting for months, thinking himself content with the workings of the planets and the pull of the tide, but all he’s been doing is denying himself the one thing that makes any sense in the world - the one thing, he muses silently, that doesn’t seem to make sense at all anymore. 

He’s not as sober as he’d like to be in this moment, but perhaps that is a blessing in disguise. The car comes to a halt at the eighth floor and the bell dings as the doors slide open. No longer faced with his rather melancholy visage, Alex looks at the hallway, sees the plate that registers the room numbers and direction in which they lie, and turns left, down towards 818, the pack of Boddington’s secure against his hip as he swaggers. He’s of a mind to crack one right there in the hallway; he doubts they’ll be consumed once he gets to the room. They’re for show, a conversation starter, or perhaps a false offering of peace.

This is new territory for him, chasing Jamie down. It’s perfectly clear to Alex now that for the most part, it’s been Jamie running to him, and perhaps that’s what’s exhausted Jamie, made him reluctant to seek Alex out. Whatever the case, Alex is here facing the door with the brass numbers and he lifts his hand to knock, wondering where he’s going to find himself at the end of the night.

+

Jamie’s first thought when he hears the knocking is, _Please, don’t be Katie_. But then, who else is it going to be? He’s not keen on discussing the happenings from earlier, now, or tomorrow over breakfast, or at any other time. He’d like to avoid it all together, but he doubts that’s an option, and he pulls himself up from where he’s sprawled back on the bed in a bathrobe, damp clothing discarded in the bathroom, and pads to the door. He doesn’t bother looking through the peephole; tomorrow morning, he’ll wonder if he had looked, would he have opened the door?

As it is, he swings it wide, apology dying on his lips when he sees that the smaller frame does not belong to his golden-haired wife, but to a rather sullen, soaking boy with a chip on his shoulder and a cut in his lip. Alex grunts his greeting, and thrusts the pack of Boddingtons’ towards Jame with a gruff, “Here,” before stepping past Jamie and into the room.

Jamie fumbles with the cans and stares at the stark yellow case before he blinks up at Alex, who is sauntering about the room like he’s interested in the generic hotel decoration. Closing the door and throwing the bolt and chain, Jamie then moves into the room and sets the case of cans down on the bar and tears open the cardboard. With a can clutched in each hand, he looks back up to offer one to Alex, and is met with the singer’s fist colliding with his bottom lip.

It’s like some sort of twisted deja vu, and Jamie stumbles back a step, startled by the punch, and awed by the power behind it. The cans drop to the carpet. “Jesus _Christ_ , Turner,” Jamie snaps, touching his lip and frowning at the blood on his fingertips. He looks back to Alex, who is staring rather smugly. “What the _fook_?”

Alex sniffs and then shrugs, unaffected by Jamie’s reaction. “Now we’re even,” he sneers.

“You’ve fookin’ lost it, mate,” Jamie growls, licking his wound.

“So have you,” Alex huffs, moving into Jamie’s space and shoving him back by the shoulders. “I don’t even know you anymore, James,” he laments roughly. But his hands know the feel of Jamie’s body, and they slide over the blond’s frame of their own accord, drawing up from the shoulders to Jamie’s neck, thumbs tracing his whiskered jaw, fingers lacing into the damp hair. 

He presses up on his tiptoes, and drags his eyes from Jamie’s mouth to his stark blue gaze, and revels in the shuddering breath that passes between them. His hands change direction and fall back to the open collar of the terry-cloth robe, fingers slipping inside, stroking along hot skin, and tangling in the dark blond hair there. A flash of gold catches Alex’s eye, and he pushes one side of the robe open to look at the chain Jamie has always worn, and the simple owl-shaped pendant there - a gift in the desert, one of several, but this one permanent, and visible. Sinking back to his feet, Alex takes a moment and lets the symbolism of it under his skin. He rubs the thin piece of gold with his thumb, plucks it from Jamie’s chest and marvels at the fact he still wears it after all this time.

Jamie’s fist closes over Alex’s where it clutches the pendant, and he softly murmurs, “I never take it off.”

Alex’s dark eyes are flashing as he looks up at Jamie once more. Age has narrowed the formerly round cheeks, and defined the man before him, but the pulse beating is the same tempo, and the heat is familiar. “Jameh,” Alex breathes, before he takes a chance, and kisses the older man.

Everything that Jamie held back in that hallway comes flooding to the surface, and it only takes a second for him to react, and kiss Alex back. With the door locked and their hearts beating madly, Jamie’s all in, and tugs at Alex’s jacket as Alex’s fingers fumble with the knot on the robe that Jamie’s wearing. It’s not enough, though, and Alex tears one side open, down Jamie’s shoulder, and pulls his mouth from Jamie’s to latch onto the golden skin of his neck, and collarbones, and yes, that shoulder, that rounded bit of muscle and flesh that Alex has always found stability in. He groans at Jamie’s taste, chlorine and cologne, and lashes his tongue over the places he scores with his teeth. His lip stings, but it merely adds to the mix, and he turns close to rabid as Jamie’s fingers twist into the tangle of curls at the back of Alex’s head. Jamie tugs, and brings Alex’s mouth against his once more, tongue plunging to sweep against Alex’s, his lips rough, and needy. Hiis other hand tears at the buttons of Alex’s shirt, and then wraps into the belt at Alex’s waist. 

Alex senses the tug upwards into Jamie’s kiss, and the push down towards the floor, and he goes, crashing to his knees, wincing at where Jamie’s hand still snares his hair. It’s good, though. God, it’s good, and it’s something he can hold onto, that sting and searing pain at the top of his skull, making his breath come faster. Jamie grunts, mutters under his breath about how he’s going to get even with Alex this time, make him feel everything he’s ever felt for the younger man. Alex stares up at Jamie, prying the knot on the robe open, scraping the sides away from his hips and pelvis, and he sits up on his knees and places open mouthed, sucking kisses all over Jamie’s lower torso, biting and tonguing his way along smooth golden skin, inhaling Jamie’s scent, taking everything he can. 

Jamie’s cock is hard already, brushing the underside of Alex’s jaw from behind his boxers, and he feels every hot huff of breath that Alex exerts, and desperate clawing at his hips as Alex clings to him, pulls him forward, open mouth, eyes wide, a whine in his throat, so ready to receive. Those clever fingers are already curling into the waistband of his boxer briefs when Jamie grunts again and thrusts his hips forward, urging Alex on. The younger lad eager accepts his task, and slides the cotton down, pulling it away from the raging erection Jamie now sports, smirking as he does so.

“There’s my Cookeh,” Alex praises, cupping the length of hard flesh in his palm and cradling it against his cheek as he speaks hotly. “God, you always get so hard for me, don’t you?” He smirks again,like he’s got some sort of power of Jamie.

And he does - Jamie knows this, feels it in his veins, but he’s unwilling to surrender this early on. It’s his modus operandi: he always caves at Alex’s touch, at his sultry, dirty words, but he won’t be swayed because for fuck’s sake, he just wants equal footing in this match. So, instead of nodding and sighing, and petting the pretty hair on Alex’s skull, Jamie tightens that hair in his fist, and snares Alex’s sharp jaw in his other hand, and holds the lad steady as he stares him down. 

Alex falters, his hands clasping Jamie’s thighs as he stares up with watering eyes. “Jamie?” he asks softly, his gaze flickering from the feast that is Jaime’s cock, back up to the thing in Jamie’s eyes. He groans then, finding the animal that had stared him down in the hallway, understanding that it had been barely contained. Now that they’re behind closed doors, and Alex is on his knees, he shudders, understanding his place. Licking his lips, he offers up a wetly whispered, “ _Please_ , Jameh,” and then moans around the thick flesh that is suddenly invading his mouth.

“Ah, _fook_!” Jamie exclaims, snarling and smiling down at the way Alex’s throat opens for him. “Christ, Turner, that’s it, innit? Hmm? Got you on your knees, now you’re gonna take it.” 

Every ounce of his love for Alex, his desire for him, his desperation for him, makes itself known in the harsh rasp of his words, and Jamie can’t help but admire the strange duality of gently thumbing Alex’s cheekbones where those dark lashes sweep over them, and the way he makes the younger lad choke on mouthful after mouthful. It’s burning his defenses down, the ones he put up after Alex’s stunt at Helders’ party, and the resentment for that moment, and for the lad’s boldness, starts to seep up through the embers, a boiling substance akin to lava that threatens to burst with every pull of Alex’s hot, eager mouth. Alex gags, and chokes again, and there is no doubt the sounds he’s making are curses that hook on Jamie’s cock as it takes up all the space in Alex’s throat, squeezing air out along with the tears at the corner of dark, shining eyes.

With a harshly uttered curse, Jamie pushes the lad from his cock, and then grips him under the arms, hauling him to his feet. Alex looks dazed, and strangely pleased with himself, which serves to make Jamie’s hands rougher. He’ll never hurt the lad intentionally, but he won’t deny he likes the way Alex’s skin discolours where he grapples his arms as he turns him and kicks his feet wide, bending him over the bar and holding him down by the back of the neck. The shirt, half unbuttoned in Jamie’s delirium, comes off easily, skidding off the pale, freckled shoulders and the long, leanly muscled arms, to twist and twine at Alex’s wrists, a welcome binding that makes Alex choke on a moan, and close his eyes as he shudders.

“Gonna fook me, Jameh? Hmm?” Alex’s tone is flirting with disaster, and he knows it. He doesn’t care, however, he just wants to experience every emotion flitting through Jamie’s body, and so his mouth writes cheques he’s not sure he can cash, but he’ll gladly become overdrawn in exchange for the fortune of Jamie’s mouth, and body. His hips roll with invitation.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Jamie replies darkly, his fingers quick to pull open Alex’s belt, and unsnap the top button of his jeans. The fly parts easily, and Jamie palms Alex’s cock where it rises beneath damp boxers, gripping and pulling, pressing his heel against the rigid flesh, but never establishing a rhythm that Alex can rut against. The dark-eyed lad whines,, and glares over his shoulder at Jamie.

“Yeah, you know it. You’d like it, too, yeah? Puttin’ me in me place, makin’ it hurt-” he bites off the end of his tirade as Jamie’s fingers snag his flesh with the tearing down of his boxers, and he gasps hotly, his synapses firing rapidly, as Jamie slaps his ass, once, twice, this cheek, and then that, and slides the fingers of his other hand through Alex’s hair once more.

“Want it to hurt, babeh?” Jamie hums, winding his hips and arching his dick, still wet with Alex’s spit, and the precome that continues to well with each pulse, right against the smooth crack of Alex’s arse. “That would make it even, wouldn’t it? Hmm? Makin’ you hurt as much as you hurt me.” 

“God, _yes_ , Jameh,” Alex pleads, pushing back as much as he can in Jamie’s grip. He watches as Jamie shrugs out of his robe and slides a thumb into his mouth, and his legs begin to shake as Jamie fixes his stare on Alex’s eyes. “Fuck me, babeh,” Alex whispers, his eyes fluttering closed. “Make it hurt.”

And Jamie, ever willing to follow Alex’s lead, even when he’s got the upper hand, does as asked. He doesn’t bother asking for lube; Alex’s comfort is the last thing on his mind, and he knows that the lack of it will result in pleasure for the younger man, so long as Jamie plays skillfully. The shirt around Alex’s wrists is unravelled, and Jamie takes Alex’s hands up in his and stretches his arms forward so that Alex’s palms are planted on the bar, and Jamie is draped over his back. 

“Don’t move until I say so,” Jamie warns, before he drags his hands back down Alex’s arms, over his shoulders, digging into his ribs, before grappling onto the narrow hips. Alex merely nods, his eyes still closed, the side of his face pressed to the wood, his fingers curling about the edge of the bar. His lips move around a constant plea, and Jamie grins as his thumbs pry at the smooth flesh of Alex’s ass, opening him up so that he can spit, and then drag the slick tip of his dick through it, making the boy a sticky, helpless mess.

Alex has never felt more exposed, not even when he was naked on a beach in Rio - the camera only caught the first bit, those first moments, but when the film cut, he dropped his drawers and dove into the waves again. He at least had the cover of water; tonight, nothing can be hidden, not the way Jamie’s forcing the issue, and Alex, open and naked and spread for the taking, makes peace with the thundering of his heart, and the flutter in his belly. Jamie’s cock is hot as it slowly presses inside, and Alex’s tongue swipes around his lips, the memory of that muscle invading his mouth still prevalent. He’s not so much a prude to ask for it after it’s been in his ass and that thought makes him groan again. He’s a slag for Jamie, in every sense of the word, and his breath comes faster as Jamie sinks another inch in, and tilts Alex’s hips back.

There will be bruises on Alex’s hips tomorrow, of that Jamie has no doubt. The impossibly tight inferno that is Alex’s arse is maddening. Combined with the fact that Alex has been teasing him, and testing him, all night (and really, throughout their entire history), it takes all of Jamie’s willpower to not pound into Alex with three tight thrusts, and come with a roar. Instead, he squeezes Alex’s hips again, and hisses at the feeling constricting his cock, and then with a rather vicious move, he yanks Alex back to the root of his erection with a hoarse groan. Alex’s answering cry is sharp, and desperate, and his hands scrabble on the bar until he clutches the edge with one, and Jamie’s thigh with the other.

“Alex?” Jamie breathes very softly. The hand buried in Alex’s hair relaxes somewhat, and he slides his palm down to cup the back of Alex’s neck.

“M’sorreh, Cookeh, m’sorreh, I didn’t mean to-”

“Shhh,” Jamie sighs. “I know, Al. I know.” His hips move back a fraction, and he pauses as Alex hisses. Drawing his fingers down to where he breaches Alex’s body, Jamie leans over and puts his lips next to Alex’s ear. “Does it hurt?” he whispers.

“Oh, fookin’ ‘ell, it _does_. Do it again, Jameh” Alex murmurs dreamily, widening his stance. “That’s the stuff, Cookeh, righ’ there, fookin’ do it like that.” He takes a breath and then tacks on a quiet, “ _please_.”

“You picked up manners somewhere,” Jamie hums, drawing his hips back lazily, holding Alex’s steady. He drives home again, pulling Alex back to meet him, and he groans at the hot muscles that squeeze him. “I love it,” Jamie admits.

Alex nods in response, and his eyes squeeze shut with a smile as Jamie uses him roughly for a moment, hollow sound of flesh meeting flesh surrounding them in the otherwise quiet hotel room. It’s not enough, however, not in the moment, and Jamie disengages with sigh, and watches as Alex squirms and whines, and presses up on his toes.

“C’mere, m’not done wiv you,” Jamie mutters, pulling Alex’s shoulder until the smaller lad is standing. 

He turns him, and with a rough shove, Alex stumbles forward, catching himself on the mirror that’s hanging on the wall next to the bar. His breath fogs the surface, much like Jamie’s touch fogs his mind, and he’s split again, hotly and hurriedly, this time crying out in pure pleasure at the way Jamie’s upward thrusts push him to his toes. The position allows for Jamie to plaster Alex against the wall, and he does so, pushing his chest into Alex’s back, his hips into Alex’s arse, his cock deep enough that he’s certain Alex can taste it on the back of his tongue. 

“I will _never_ be done with you,” Jamie breathes against Alex’s ear. 

A tremor rolls through Alex, and he whines and pushes back, tilting his head so he can just graze Jamie’s jaw with his mouth. The blond takes the hint, and lunges forward, hand cupping Alex’s jaw and tugging until their lips meet and the feeling swirls through their bodies down to where they’re connected. 

“Jameh,” Alex warns, his fingertips white where they press against glass, his eyes unable to look away from the blatant pleasure that’s spread across his face in the reflection.

“Not yet,” Jamie mutters, snaking a hand between the wall and Alex’s hips. He circles the base of Alex’s cock, squeezes until Alex keens and then nods. “Good?” Jamie asks.

“More,” Alex rasps, and he feels his world tilted again.

The couch where he lands is narrow, but he doesn’t care, not with the way Jamie is sliding between his thighs and tangling their fingers together once more. It seems like a lifetime ago that they were like this that first time, or was that just yesterday? Alex feels it in his chest, and in the space between his hips, as Jamie pushes him back, hands pinned to the arm of the couch. With a wind of his hips and a little work, Jamie is back inside, and Alex gasps hotly, his mouth a perfect, whorish little ‘o’, while his knees draw up to make the angle that much sweeter. He can’t touch Jamie, and he can’t really move beyond the frantic rolling of his hips, Jamie has seen to it, and when Jamie pauses to smirk down at Alex, Alex snarls, and bucks.

“C’mon, Jamie,” he growls, wiggling in Jamie’s grasp. “Fookin’ _move_.” When Jamie does nothing, Alex narrows his gaze and lifts his head, putting his lips against Jamie’s, but not kissing him. “You fookin’ _own_ that arse, now _show_ me ‘ow mooch you fookin’ _love_ it.”

Jamie growls as he drives his hips forward and up, causing Alex to shout his pleasure. Jamie feels the flex of Alex’s hands where he holds him at the wrists, and exerts more pressure there as he draws his hips back, and pounds into Alex again. Once more, Alex howls, pushing his head back into the cushions, his eyes closed blissfully as his jaw goes slack, and his knees hug Jamie’s ribs. The lithe body beneath him bucks, and Alex shoves himself further onto the hard, thick heat holding him open. He sobs next, almost delirious, and Jamie admits to himself that he loves the sound. To prove it, he curls over Alex, hands slipping down from the delicate wrists to the wiry biceps, only to leave off all together. He snares the hair at Alex’s crown, and with the other, takes a hold of the slender throat that bobs with every breath. Alex’s answer is to gasp, and moan, and nod frantically.

At this stage, he’ll let Jamie take him anywhere, on the passenger side, in the trunk, strapped to the roof screaming as he barrels down the highway doing a hundred and twenty klicks per hour. This is the side of Jamie that Alex wants to see, and to touch - the fight in the blond seems to shimmer beneath waves of doting concern, and now it pours over Alex, threatens his very sanity, and he hollers and moans, and begs Jamie to never, ever stop. Jamie grips him harder, hair and throat, and buries his face into the side of Alex’s neck, growling as he winds his hips in and up, back and down, all in the elliptical motion that spins the universe and everything around them. Their sex is rock n’ roll, fast and pounding, emotions running high, and cyclical. It comes, and goes, only to come and go again and again. Alex shudders on a high note, and Jamie revels in his tremolo.

The blond sits back, groaning, taking Alex with him, swallowing his protests and his frantic cries to let him come, and once more he suppresses Alex’s urge with a tight hold at the root of his cock. Alex twitches and thrashes, and digs his fingernails into Jamie’s shoulders. He bites the blond’s lip close to where he punched it, and Jamie hisses, and reaches down, pulling his cock none-too-gently from Alex’s ass. 

“Turn over,” Jamie rasps, already moving Alex to his liking, preparing to mount the quivering body and finish him off. “An’ tell me if we’re even now.”

Alex whimpers, clawing at the couch as Jamie slips inside once more. A thick groan from both of them, is followed by Alex’s babbling, his sobbing, his frantic, agitated cries for more, more, _“more you fookin’ slag, fookin’ make me take it, fook me, Jamie, I’m yours,”_ and Jamie replies with harsh hands on Alex’s ass, before he clutches that mess of dark hair and arches Alex taut like a longbow. His other hand wraps the lean hip and he drags Alex back onto his cock once more.

The tension pulls Alex up off of his hands, his ass nestled back into Jamie’s pelvis, his shoulders butted warmly against Jamie’s chest. He stills in Jamie’s hold, gasping hotly as Jamie hushes him, and cups his jaw once more, turning his face so that their lips can touch.

It’s this next taste, the warm, soft plunge of lips and tongue, that make Alex’s body turn molten, and he heaves a curse against Jamie’s sudden bite, snagging the bruise like he did Jamie moments before. Jamie spreads his knees, and Alex slips down that last inch, taking both of their breaths away in the process. For a second, they are still, and then Alex anxiously begins to churn his hips, clutching Jamie’s forearm and leaning his head back against Jamie’s shoulder. The blond is almost at his end, and with the way Alex’s arse is twitching, he knows the dark-eyed man isn’t far off, either.

Movement catches Jamie eye, and he whips his head left to see the mirror he’d had Alex pressed against. Now it shows off the two of them, lean and writhing, limbs stretching, holding, hips churning. Jamie makes a breathless sound against Alex’s neck, and pushes the younger lad’s jaw to turn and take it all in with wide eyes. When their gazes connect with the mirror’s reflection, Jamie’s hand slides round from Alex’s hip to take hold of Alex’s cock which arches back, leaking and desperate for attention. 

Alex pulls his eyes away first, closing them before doing his best to bury his face in the side of Jamie’s neck, as Jamie strokes and squeezes with that well-known touch. It makes Alex’s thighs tense, and he pushes back against Jamie again, and again.

“Do it, do it, do it, Jameh, _do it_ , make me come, yeah? Wanna come for you so badly, please, babeh, please - _ah_!”

“There you go,” Jamie struggles to say, as he feels Alex’s cock pulse thickly in the palm of his hand. He stroke harder and works his hips, watching himself, and Alex, in the mirror. “Watch, Alex, hmm? Open your eyes and watch.”

Pink flushes pale, angular cheekbones, and Alex’s dark eyes slip open and move once more to the mirror. “Oh, fuck, Jameh,” he whispers, now clutching the back of Jamie’s head, tangling his fingers in the dark blond hair. He goes loose in Jamie’s arms, allowing himself to be handled fully.

And Jamie takes him over, steers them right to that blinding finish, where their legs are shaking, and their names are gasped as fingers hold tightly. Jamie’s hips piston up, and his fist is tight and slick where it grasps Alex, pulling every cry and plead for mercy out of the younger lad, loving the way Alex’s voice shakes with every pound upwards of his hips. Jamie shudders in the inferno of Alex’s body, catching his breath second before Alex swears sharply, and loudly, and arches into Jamie’s hand while taking Jamie’s cock to the hilt, and detonating. They flood each other, Alex thick, and hot over Jamie’s fingers, and Jamie slick and scorching in Alex’s ass. 

Still gripping Jamie’s hair, Alex pitches forward, face first into the couch, taking Jamie with him and loving the feel of the older lad curled around his back. Jamie’s breath heaves in his ear, and his fingers flex on his hip and still stroke his cock, trying for every last ounce that Alex has to give.

When they finally come round enough to survey the damage, Jamie sees the bluish spots on Alex’s hips where he’s gripped him, and he feels the sting in his lip that no doubt matches Alex’s. The younger boy shudders and hisses as Jamie slips free, and he whimpers and reaches behind him, trying to prolong their closeness. Jamie doesn’t hesitate before clasping the hand and pulling the lean body up. Turning them both towards the bed, he lays Alex down first, throwing the sheets over him, knowing that his life won’t reset until later the next day. He’s not ready to let Alex go yet, and Alex, it seems, is content to lay with him.

+

For a while, they sleep. Neither are sure why they wake at the same time, but they lay there in the dim, pre-dawn light that seeps in through the cracks of the blinds, and they just breathe, feeling the rise and fall of one another, and the heat of limbs entangled.

“I remember when you were a shy lad,” Jamie murmurs in the darkness.

Alex curls into his side, his face pressed against Jamie’s neck, and replies, “I still am.”

“Are you?”

There’s a pause and Alex sighs, and sniffs, and nods. “I shy away from everythin’, Jamie. I shy away from me feelings. From you. From meself. I don’t know how to get out of the cycle.”

“An’ I’m just caught up wiv you,” Jamie declares, sweeping a broad hand up Alex’s back to tug the dark hair, lifting Alex’s head so that they can kiss.

When their lips part, Alex sighs. “We can’t go back, you realize.”

Jamie chuckles. “Back to what? To you, an me, on that couch in Sheffield? Or were it before that, after that footie match.”

“To any of it, I think,” Alex replies, laying his head back on Jamie’s chest. “Not that I’d want to.”

“Not to change anything?”

Alex shakes his head. “No. I don’t think it would make much of a difference in the course of events. We’re two objects spinning madly round one another, only to come to close and then collide, which sends us reeling back onto our set path. An’ no matter the direction or mode of transportation, we’ll keep ending up here, until one of us pulls over, or runs out of gas.”

It’s Jamie’s turn to be silent, and he turns onto his side before tugging Alex beneath him. He pulls those lean thighs apart, making room for his hips, and they are touching everywhere. Alex becomes pliant, not unlike that first time. “I’ll keep driving for now,” he whispers, arching up over the man beneath him, “and you can pick the songs. Tell me where to stop so you can get out and stretch your legs.” He feels Alex’s cock stirring back to life, and he groans as Alex’s hands slip down his shoulders, fingers dancing along his spine, to dig into the rounds of his buttocks and pull him closer.

Alex takes comfort in Jamie’s weight and his warmth, and in the moment thinks perhaps he was too hasty in saying he couldn’t go back to the beginning. Wasn’t that the way of the universe, the natural cycle of things? To begin, and exist, and end, only to begin again? 

“We’ll start slow,” Alex nods, opening his mouth under Jamie’s, and tasting him like it’s the first time - warmth, and cinnamon, and something uniquely Jamie. “An’ if you get tired, tell me,” he says gently. “An’ I’ll gladly let you out.”

Jamie thrusts in, swallowing Alex’s next groan, muffling it with one of his own. “Just take the wheel when I need it,” he says, setting a steady pace that makes Alex pant and whimper, and claw at Jamie’s back. “If I’m staring at the window, lost in my own world, just know that I’m still beside you, ready to navigate the terrain if you get lost.”


End file.
